Bluebird's Illusion
by Virgins-and-Surgeons
Summary: What do you do when a piece of paper becomes too ugly, too messy for your tastes? Why, you rip away that sheet and start on a clean one. Ichimin is too damaged, too bitter and too remorseful for Aizen's tastes. Time for a new sheet. Sequel to Faux Smiles.
1. Comatose

((This is the sequel to Faux Smiles, which was going to be way too long if I kept it within one story. If things don't make sense now, they will in time. If you've been reading, you know how I am by now.))

* * *

Gentle beeping noises sounded every other moment, a rasping noise of oxygen being forced into still lungs. It was a dark, quiet room otherwise, and very peaceful altogether. The door slid open quietly, a soft sweeping noise as harsh fluorescent lights poured in the dimly-lit area and a new resident entered the room with clicking footsteps. They made their way somewhat noisily to the long table in the center, stopping abruptly at its edge.

"Hm...no changes in vitals." The man's voice murmured, as he reached down and pressed his fingers to the side of the test subject's neck, feeling a weak but apparent pulse beneath his fingertips and through the material of his immaculate gloves. His lord hadn't visited in an eternity, it seemed. She had most likely lost his interest, or maybe he had even forgotten about this relic. The scientist twitched his head gently to the left, soft pink-colored hair complying and moving out of his amber eyes. Szayel Aporro Grantz, Octava Espada was considering putting in a request to turn off her life support, so he could make use of this room once again with experiments that actually needed to be done. He toyed with the clipboard at the end of the bed, reading over it for the millionth time out of boredom.

"Full intebation. Semi-permanent coma." He murmured, reaching up and offhandedly brushing her hair out of her face and taking her by the chin, lifting her head up a bit and turning it left and right. She had lost the color to her face, gone nearly as pale as Ulquiorra from the ages she spent in this dim room. The wheezing noise still filling the room now and then was coming from the tube down the woman's throat, forcing air into her lungs. Needles pierced her veins, keeping her body fed and hydrated. Aizen's own illusory coma kept her under, and she remained a fixture of Las Noches, a relic of the past. A single chair sat against the wall on the far side of the room, well-worn through countless visits. The floor had scuff marks where someone had carelessly dragged the chair along the clean white floors, over to the woman's side.

"Hm...Ichimin Kumorigachi." Szayel repeated her name, letting her head go and making sure the breathing tube hadn't come out of place. She fell limp on the table again, dirty blond hair splayed out around her head like a halo. Szayel's cold fingers lay on her flesh, the thin white kosode only implemented at Gin Ichimaru's request. Aizen didn't care if she was exposed or not, and even his Espada could see quite plainly that Sosuke Aizen was losing interest in this woman as a person and now wished to keep her as a specimen in his 'collection' of interesting things, instead of dealing with her moods and fluctuating emotions. He never visited at all anymore.

One person kept on coming back, though. Once a day, every day.

"Hey, Szayel-chan! Looking as sexually ambiguous as always!" The cheery voice rang out behind him, and the scientist inwardly groaned. Outwardly, he sighed near inaudibly but didn't look back as footfalls traced towards his back. The tall figure loomed over him, casting a shadow over Ichimin's comatose face. The Octava didn't look back, only spoke while examining the clipboard again.

"Greetings, Ichimaru-san. Come for your daily visit, have you?" He queried without interest, hearing Gin chuckle over his shoulder. The ex-shinigami walked over to his chair, dragging it along the white floors with a horrific screeching noise that Gin seemed immune to. Szayel's eye twitched, but he did nothing more. Finally finished dragging the chair, Gin fell into it and began to watch Szayel mess with this and that on Ichimin, mainly her needles. Checking if they were in correct position, unblocked, all that. The fox-faced man was leaning his chin into his hand, smiling his eerie smile. As always.

"What do you do in here, Ichimaru-san? If it isn't a terrible chore to answer me, of course." The sarcasm in Szayel's voice could be heard, though it was his normal sort he used whenever he spoke to...well, _anyone_. Even Aizen got the tone, though he didn't seem to mind it as long as Szayel remained a scientist worth keeping around. Ichimaru just chuckled in a rather hollow manner, while remaining maddeningly silent for the longest time. Grantz didn't look too concerned with the silence. Eventually, though, he did speak.

"Well, li'l Szayel, I talk. Thassit."

What a disappointing answer. Though Szayel didn't really know what else he wanted to hear. Maybe something scandelous, to gain his interest for a moment. Ah well. Szayel tsked, very loudly, as he adjusted her needles.

"Talk? About what? She's a breathing corpse. Completely catatonic, totally unresponsive. What could you possibly talk about for any length of time? I know you spend at least an hour, sometimes two to three, in here." His light voice nearly held a tone of accusation in it, though for what crime was and remained unknown. Ichimaru just laughed, and it was positively chilling.

"I talk about old times. When we first met, how great the warm sun feels on a person's skin, how so many women would've been so damn _envious_ of her for being Aizen's favorite for a little bit, how great the war's been, shinigami casualties, all sorts of stuff." Gin explained, sounding just a bit more cruel than normal in his amusement. Szayel glanced back over his shoulder, a single amber eye framed by bone glasses examining the ex-shinigami.

"And why do you talk to her? She can't hear you but on the most basic level. The soundwaves bounce off her eardrum, but her conscious brain makes no recognition of the words or what they mean." The scientist lectured, noting that Ichimaru wasn't dampened in the slightest. The traitor shinigami shifted in his seat, leaning back in it as if it were Aizen's throne itself. "Well, Szayel-chan, that's only on the most basic level. Her conscious brain can't hear it, but what if her _subconscious_ does?"

Szayel only stared on a moment, raising a pink, well-manicured eyebrow at him. Gin sighed between his teeth.

"Awright, I heard tha' dreams come from the subconscious. From somewhere, don't matter where. But if that's true, an' my words are reachin' her subconscious, then she might just dream about what I'm tellin' her."

Szayel sighed, finishing playing with her tubes and turning on his heel, heading to the door. "Do what you want, Ichimaru-san. Just don't kill her, or it falls on my head. _Somehow_." He had a bit of acidity in that last word, heading out the door and closing it behind him with a loud crash. Gin watched him go, childishly waving goodbye before the scientific hollow left and Gin settled back in his chair, looking at Ichimin.

"Things've been good, since you been gone. Aizen's got his kingdom full 'a slaves that think they're worth something, the war is going great for our side, and you lie here like a doll. Things're great." He toyed with her hair, still smiling malevolently. "Aizen's had some wild nights with Menoly and Loly, from the sound of it. They want him bad, want to be his girls. If only they knew what it was like, huh? But then again, you can't say anything to halt them. Even if you were awake, they wouldn't hear a word of it. Just how the world goes, huh?"

He continued to mess with her hair, pushing it out of her face near gently.

"Everyone's got a good life 'cept you. Wonder how that happens, huh? Don't remember you ever doing anything warranting a years-long coma. Then again, you did fall for Aizen, so you did technically warrant it. Poor dame, didn't know, didja? Lamb to the slaughter." Gin continued on, speaking a one-way dialogue with a comatose woman living off a noisy respirator. Gin looked almost introspective for a moment, as if he were thinking hard.

"Pretty sad ending for a pretty sad girl. I never liked sad endings."

Gin was quiet a moment longer, losing his smile for a moment. He stared at the blank wall for a few seconds, thinking things over.

"Guess tragedies don't have anything but sad endings, do they?"

He spoke quietly, remaining almost human for a moment. Then, a malicious grin cracked upon his face again and Gin Ichimaru looked like a devil all over again.

"Ah well. Somebody has to have a sad ending for someone else to have a happy one, eh? You just rolled the dice wrong, I guess. Don't matter; Aizen is happy and you're in his collection, so nobody else can have ya. Yer his till you die. And I don't think ya gonna die to soon, seeing as you're like this. I could, I _could_ pull this cord with my foot, kill you, save you right here and now, but I ain't gonna. You look _so_ serene on that nice table, and I don't wanna get poor Szayel-chan in trouble, do I? Then he'd get a sad ending, and we don't want _another_ one of them."

He stood up from his seat, neglecting to move it back again. Someone else would do it, they always did. Gin sauntered towards the door, whistling a merry tune.

"Life's a joke, Ichimin. Ya laugh at it, or ya just cry."

He stepped out and the door shut behind him, leaving Ichimin alone and abandoned in the harsh fluorescent lights of the intebation room.


	2. Back, but Different

A shadow hung about in a grand throne room, a deadly king resting in his throne lazily. Sosuke Aizen looked virtually the same as he had fifty years ago, though his hair was a bit longer. It was the only thing that could show any age for an ageless being. He shifted slightly, Kyoka Suigetsu giving a small clink of sheathe against stone throne. A slight sigh escaped the Lord of Las Noches; things had been terribly droll lately. Mainly with the war against Soul Society.

He had fought against them, yes, but things had ground down to a standstill. Seireitei and Las Noches had both suffered casualties and this had left them trading blows every time they could, though neither had the power over the other side to deal a crippling blow. Sure, Orihime Inoue had been kidnapped, and her friends had made an attempt, but it had failed and the Captains hadn't aided the recapturing of Orihime after Stark retrieved her. Instead, they had retrieved the invaders and dragged them back through a Gargantua to Karakura Town. summarily, Aizen had called off the attack on Karakura for the moment, with the addition of new Captains to deal with.

Standstill. Horribly boring standstill. For fifty more years. And Ichimin had remained in her coma.

"Hm." Aizen was pondering bringing her out of it; Szayel was wanting to clear out that room, and he wanted to kill Ichimin. But then again, why would he even need to heed Szayel? The man wasn't his superior; Aizen controlled them all like puppets. Then again, he somewhat missed a certain favorite puppet of his that had always thought she had control over herself. He didn't like her attitude, however. She wasn't the same as in Soul Society, happy with what she had. She couldn't see how much better Las Noches would be to live in. He didn't like how her personality had changed. But he wasn't content with keeping her in a coma when he was so very bored all the time. Sure, Menoly and Loly could offer sexual appeasement, but they were too clingy. They were somewhat annoying, even more so than Ichimin's attitude.

Running a finger along Kyoka Suigetsu's sheathe, Aizen made a decision. Gin had been trying to force her to have new dreams, ones to his own liking. It looked like Ichimaru was either bored or wasn't content with Ichimin's dreams at the moment. Aizen leaned back in his throne again, musing things quietly.

Maybe a change within Las Noches was in order.

* * *

_The sand was dimly warm under her feet, probably from the daylight earlier. She didn't bother with shoes, nobody really did when it was a place this lovely. Ichimin surveyed the gorgeous beach, the sun having gone down just a bit ago and leaving the coastline dark and motionless except for the waves lapping at the beaches. The top she wore was a simple thing; basically the same as a swimsuit bikini top made of normal cloth and that tied in the back, exposing her tanned stomach to the pleasantly warm night air. Ichimin had to admit, the very short jean shorts were nice as well, and she couldn't say she didn't like the great tan she had._

_Walking out along the sand, Ichimin traced her way to a bonfire in the distance and grabbed a beer from the cooler, dropping down beside a group of people who she couldn't quite recognize at the moment. She knew them, but she couldn't quite recall the heavily tattooed redhead at the moment, nor the man with the '69' on his cheek, the bald man, the effeminate man with feathers on his eyebrows, the quiet blond man, or the busty woman that she was sitting next to. They passed around a joint, laughing and dancing and drinking rum. Ichimin herself was feeling pretty buzzed that summer night, having a hell of a time on the beach. After a while, she made her way away from the party and along the beach by herself, as something unexplainable urged her on._

_A figure was standing on the placid beaches far off, and Ichimin meandered towards whomever it could be. She recognized the figure as soon as she saw him, smiling and running to him. He turned, looking curious before recognizing her as well and smiling, holding his arms out to her. She ran to him, wrapped in a warm embrace and planting kisses on his jawline. She was smiling, telling him how happy she was here and at the same time brushing his brunette hair out of his face. His arms were around her waist and she smiled up at him, kissing him gently on the lips before looking on a moment. With a grin, she gave him a shove and the two of them fell into the sand, Ichimin straddling his waist._

_"The rum?" He asked with a slight smirk, and she laughed hotly against his exposed neck. He was wearing an thin white shirt, unbuttoned and open so her hands could roam over his bare chest. He was wearing shorts as well, though not as short as hers._

_"You know rum makes me horny." She told him with a giggle, before kissing him again. His arms were around her waist once again and he flipped her over into the sand, kissing her neck and feeling her shiver underneath him._

_"And you know I'm happy to oblige."_

* * *

Aizen watched and controlled the dream through Kyoka Suigetsu, having more than enough fun manipulating her to foster innate trust and love in him even when she was in a coma through his own actions. Nothing wrong with that at all.

"So, playin' with a person's dreams? Tha's pretty cruel, even for you." Gin crooned from behind the throne, leaning against it lazily. When he had gotten there Aizen didn't know, but he had known he had been there for a bit of time now. Aizen himself just chuckled, watching the steamy night in the sands playing out in Ichimin's dreams with a smirk.

"I've done worse with her. She is still mine, after all; why not shape her the way I want her?"

Gin chuckled, turning around the throne to lean against it and peek over Aizen's shoulder, staring at him from slitted eyes. Aizen glanced back, smirking. "And is there something that you dislike about that, Gin?" He queried, eyes sharp as he spoke. Ichimaru batted the accusation away easily with a wave of his hand. "Jus' a bit bored, is all. Thought it'd be fun to visit old times again. Walk down memory lane, ya might say."

It seemed to pacify Aizen, because he laughed darkly. "I suppose we all would like to revisit old times, right? Ichimin's past is something interesting indeed. I'm sure she loves visiting parts of it that you speak of over and over again."

"Ya know she does." Gin responded, leaning back a bit as Aizen closed his eyes, standing and beginning to head off to his own room. "Come along, Gin. Let us have a bit of tea." He spoke, chuckling. Gin followed after him lazily, still speaking.

"And to think, when ya first started screwin' with her dreams, she didn't want a thing 'ta do with ya in 'em."

* * *

The intebation room was silent all for the wheezing and the beeping, as usual. Ichimin dreamed on the table, as per the usual protocol.

And her eyes fluttered open.

Immediately, Ichimin shot up, gagging at the tube down her throat. She ripped it out, coughing and gasping and wheezing for air. Seeing the needles, she pulled them out as well while ignoring what they may or may not do and stared around the blank white room, confusedly.

"Sosuke?" She called, though her voice hold absolutely none of the normal resignation or exhaustion it did when she was last awake. No, she sounded absolutely normal and just confused. She glanced down, to see that the chair Ichimaru pulled out had been on her air tube, and the lack of oxygen had woken her up after that time without. She rubbed her throat, getting down off the table to collapse from the weakness of her unused legs. She didn't remember what had happened, or why she was so weak.

"Someone..." Ichimin whimpered, closing her eyes a moment until the sound of the door got her attention again. An effeminate pink-haired man with amber eyes, looking incredibly surprised at seeing her awake. He immediately walked over to her, dragging her up by her forearms and setting her in the chair.

"Who are you? What happened? Where am I? Where is Sosuke?" Her voice was soft, weak and cracked. The unfamiliar man ignored her, slipping through the door and speaking to someone on the outside a moment. He spoke a moment, before bowing his head a bit and leaving. A tall, eerily-smiling figure slunk in towards Ichimin, and she smiled as warmly as possible.

"'Sup Ichimin, how's the nap been?" He queried, walking over to her only to have her shoot up and throw her arms around his neck.

"Gin! It's so good to see you, but where is Sosuke?" Ichimin's voice was unnaturally warm, and it surprised Ichimaru, frankly. Gin waited for her to let go of his neck before looking most curiously down at her face. She held light in her eyes again, looking curious and most of all, not miserable and broken. Behind his slitted eyelids, Gin's eyes held a flash of recognition at what Aizen had done. Sneaky devil. Ichimaru smiled to her, patting Ichimin on the head.

"Ya gonna see him in a minute, prolly. Don't worry." He halfheartedly pushed her back into the chair, leaning against it and waiting for someone to come. Either Aizen himself or someone sent by Aizen to retrieve Ichimin. It had been a huge surprise to Gin to see her awake, and it'd probably be a shock to Aizen as well. Ichimin was twiddling her thumbs, looking less like a slave to Aizen and more like a normal human being.

_'Wonder what ya changed in her head to make her like this again, Aizen. I wonder what memories you erased, what recollections you changed to make yourself look better.'_

Gin's musings were cut short at a message delivered by an unnamed Numero, telling Gin that Aizen wanted him to bring Ichimin forth. Gin held out an arm, like a gentleman, and Ichimin looped hers with his and the two of them began to walk, slowly for her sake.

"Good mornin', Kouhi." Gin told Ichimin, smiling brightly. Ichimin just gave him an odd look, before going onwards, to meet Aizen.


	3. Draconian

Her eyes laid on his figure high above, lazily sitting on his throne and watching her. And Aizen saw something in Ichimin's eyes that he had been wanting to see for such a long, long time. He saw pure awe in her eyes as she stood with Gin, more or less clinging desperately to the smiling man.

"A-Aizen-sama, I'm sorry for being gone so long." Was the first thing she said to him, catching Gin's attention. What a curious thing to say, apologizing for being in a coma. She was holding on tight to his arm, seemingly afraid of Las Noches. That was also new. It was something innately different about her countenance; she looked more afraid, more respectful of Aizen, but not quite affectionate towards him.

"No problem at all, Ichimin. It's only expected, after that blow you took from that shinigami." Aizen comforted (in his own way, of course; the man was never quite kind), and Ichimin smiled near shyly. "Thank you, Aizen-sama." She bowed her head appreciatively, relaxing a bit on her grip of Gin's arm. The way she was holding his arm meant that he had his hand against her chest, which he had to admit was nice after such a long time of not seeing Rangiku. Not quite the same, but still nice. Still, odd new memories. Ichimin hadn't been awake during the time that the war had actually started, so she wasn't around for any battles.

Aizen glanced to Gin, in that way that told the turncoat Captain to play along with the charade for now. "Gin, please show Ichimin to her room. And get her a uniform; that kosode looks rather cold for the Hueco Mundo air." Ichimin nodded and so did Gin, though his nod was a bit more slight; his smile only grew, though. A cursory glance to Aizen as Ichimin turned her back to him showed that he had a very victorious look about him, as if he'd won a great battle. And he had, and the prize had been Ichimin's soul.

* * *

Ichimin was lead through the stark white hallways by Gin, who initiated small talk in an attempt to find out exactly how altered her memories were.

"So Ichimin, what's the last thing you remember?" He queried lightly, swaggering through the hallways with Ichimin holding onto his hand, reluctant to let go. Ichimin closed her eyes a moment, recalling what she remembered. "Well, I remember that I was fighting some kid with bright orange hair and a damn huge Zanpakuto, and when I looked away at someone yelling, someone smashed me across the side of the head with something heavy. I think that kid hit me with the blunt side of his Zanpakuto, and then left me there on the sand. I just woke up from it. How long have I been asleep?"

Gin remained silent a moment, musing over what she was telling him. A fictional battle against that Kurosaki boy had ended in her being put into a coma for fifty years? So the entire time she was asleep, Aizen was-

"Ah, jus' a couple months. Not too much, ya didn't miss anything big." He was thinking on his toes, letting Ichimin cling to him for comfort. He stopped at her old room, opening the door and letting her inside. Eerie how familiar this walk had been, and still was, seeing as the first time the two of them had made it, Ichimin had just been abducted from Seireitei and very barely escaped from execution. And now she was completely flipped in mood, not angry and confrontational but fearful and compliant. And grateful that Aizen wasn't angry with her for being in a coma.

"Las Noches was always so nice, even if it was a little bit cold." She told him, apparently not remembering all the pain that Hueco Mundo had brought her. Apparently, it was lovely here. He just nodded, watching her head inside the newly-refurbished room and head immediately to the bed, picking up her uniform appreciatively. She glanced back to him, with a smile.

"Thank you Gin, I'm glad you were here. You've always been so good to me."

Apparently Ichimin was forgetting that Gin had pulled some cruel acts of his own, most under Aizen's order but a few for his own enjoyment. Aizen had been busy. Gin just smiled, standing in the doorway. "No problem, Ichimin. Jus' good 'ta have ya back." He shut the door, heading straight for Aizen to get an explanation while Ichimin changed into her warm new uniform. She found them very nice, and enjoyed the feel of the material on her skin. She sighed deeply, looking around the room closely.

The decor was very regal, with a large four-poster bed and a couch on the left wall, a vanity dresser with makeup and hair care things already set up for her. It also had a large window, looking out at scenic sand and crystalline trees. And a hollow now eating another hollow alive. Wonderful. She pulled her eyes away from the sight, looking at the plush white carpeting under her feet before reaching out to feel the sheets on the bed. They were stiff, starchy. She felt them to be soft, in their own way. Crawling on the bed, she sprawled out on it and relished feeling alive again, closing her eyes contentedly and just relaxing.

* * *

"So, ya been having fun with rearranging memories, eh?"

Gin's voice cut the stagnant silence of the Las Noches throne room, as he slipped in the door and had no problem waltzing up to Aizen's throne. The other man chuckled lowly, leaning on his fist.

"A bit."

"Ya lyin'. I see it in your eyes, Sosuke."

There was an amused silence there for a moment, both relishing such a good joke created and waited for in the years while Ichimin was in her coma. Eventually, Aizen stood and headed towards the door at the back of his throne room, Gin following behind quietly. Tosen was never one for Aizen's rather..._unjust_ treatment of Ichimin, and so he remained enforcing justice in Las Noches while the more malevolent Gin fully appreciated Aizen's methods.

"How much did ya change?" Gin queried, leaning against the wall as Aizen moved past him, moving out to the balcony of his room and looking out upon his bare kingdom of death. "Enough."

"...Nah really, what'd ya change?" Gin's curiosity was killing him. Aizen recognized this, and chuckled lightly. His eyes showed nothing but cruel amusement at a sick joke, at how easy Ichimin was to recreate in his own personal desired image.

"I altered what she didn't want to remember in the first place. Ichimin Kumorigachi was born in a middle class noble family, lived very comfortably as a child with two loving parents and eventually grew up to join Seireitei as a shinigami. We were good friends from when we met, back when she was in my division, before Captain Hirako's untimely accident and Urahara Kisuke's exile. Ichimin, you, Tosen and I quickly worked together on our plan to leave Soul Society and she allowed herself to be put on death row for execution by Sokyoku as a distraction to aid you in our plan, playing the part of a murderess who was playing the part of an innocent."

Gin's smile grew at the insidious plan, one that not even Seireitei records could prove wrong considering that everything Aizen said could only be refuted by the traitor shinigami themselves. He twitched his head a bit, throwing silvery hair out of his slitted eyes to get a better view of Aizen.

"She don't look like she adores ya anymore."

"That is because I couldn't risk throwing in memories of loving me, which would clash with her new history."

Aizen glanced back to Gin, a smile on his lips that showed both amusement and the promise of a new game rising.

"You know what entails?" Gin mused, crossing his arms over his chest lazily. Aizen glanced back, smirking.

"Why of course I do, Gin. It means a new round of seduction and debauchery, of course. Life is a very hedonistic pursuit, especially life within Las Noches' walls. And there is nothing more hedonistically pleasant than the games of love and lust."

They remained silent a long time as Gin watched a hollow devour another, smaller one. The small one had no chance and the large one ate it alive, messily.

"'Yer a cruel man, Sosuke."

"Cruel has so many negative connotations. I prefer draconian."


	4. Espada Tea Party, Again

Currently, Ichimin Kumorigachi was standing behind Aizen's large chair and watching him brief the Espada. Gin was on Aizen's right, and Tosen was on his left. She herself was hesitant to get any nearer to their Lord's chair, mostly because she adored Aizen and was too respectful to intrude like that, but also because she was a bit hesitant to get near the man. They were good friends, always had been, but he was still terribly strong. And really, that was rather scary. She instead busied herself with listening, but that quickly became boring because it was all tactics and briefings on what was going on in the war. What **would** be going on, actually, if anything were happening at _all_.

Nobody was making a move, because neither had an advantage over the other. Ichigo Kurosaki was still rocked after the attempted rescue of Orihime Inoue, ending in failure. The woman had died in the rescue and the shinigami had retreated in defeat. However, as the current Cuarta Ulquiorra Cifer explained, Aizen had ordered him to slaughter her beforehand and leave her corpse to be discovered by the shinigami. Tragically, the shinigami had assumed it to be the notice of her demise and had left with their tails between their legs, as Orihime's soul remained alive and well within Hueco Mundo. She was still in her room, now apparently ever-the-closer to madness at the realization that now as they thought her dead, no more rescues would be attempted.

Ichimin was busy staring at Ulquiorra, seeing that his right eye was clouded over in blindness, as the scar of what appeared to be a blade started at his hairline and ended at his chin, traveling directly over the teal tear mark on his cheek. his left eye, however, swiveled over to stare directly at her when he was done briefing Aizen on Orihime's condition. Ichimin jumped at the action, but kept it so small as to be unnoticeable as she continued to stare over the Espada. Szayel was there, though his movements appeared to be delayed somewhat whenever he did move, and his hands were shaking slightly, near unnoticeably, in fact. Ichimin only saw it when he lifted his tea cup to his lips, and the glass quivered gently. What appeared to be Aaroniero sat at the end, though Ichimin only recognized the ruffled clothes and not the face. He wasn't wearing that mask, he was in what looked like a human body with an appearance looking near exactly like that of Ichigo Kurosaki, with black-tinted hair. He looked disinterested with the entire situation. Zommari Leroux was gone, his seat filled with a young-looking man with a boyish face, and overly-long sleeves. He looked _very_ bored. Grimmjow was conspicuously absent, his seat filled by Nnoitra Jiruga. Nnoitra had a huge gash across the exposed portion of his chest, and Ichimin noticed that he never lifted his left arm above chest-level without the absolute need to do it. He was currently glaring at the green-haired woman in the seat that used to be his, a very beautiful woman with green hair, a reddish mark that looked like a tattoo across the bridge of her nose, and a bust to rival Matsumoto's. She looked pretty bored too, though she appeared to like the tea. Stark, Halibel and Barragan looked to be the same, though Barragan had what looked to be a large burn visible on the exposed portion of his neck. Stark was near asleep on his steepled fingers, though he made good to look like he was listening. Knowing him being the Primera, Stark probably caught every word.

As they finished up the meeting, Aizen dismissed them all and the three Officers (Gin, Tosen and herself) all scattered at the same time, Ichimaru fading off into the shadows and Tosen heading off to do something or other; the man had always been an enigma to Ichimin. She herself was called over by Aizen, following him obediently into a back room that Ichimin didn't recognize. Retrieving something in a sheathe, he handed it to her with a smile.

"Here you go, Ichimin. I kept it safe for you while you were out of comission, of course." He told her, as she unsheathed her Zanpakuto with a small smile. As she touched the blade, however, it was as if her Zanpakuto rejected her as the channeled reiatsu within it snapped and Ichimin jerked her hand back, seeing a long cut across her palm. Aizen frowned. So her Zanpakuto was rejecting her? He didn't suppress the memories well enough, thanks to Gin waking her up early through accidentally leaving a chair on her ventilator tube. If it was accidental at all.

"Damn it, Kyokkou??" She hissed in a confused tone at the blade, which didn't respond. Her injured hand was clutched tightly to her chest, carmine blood already seeping from between her clenched fingers. She watched as Kyokkou was pulled from her hands and sheathed, before being strapped to her side. And her face instantly turned the same shade as the blood in her palm as Aizen reached forward, taking her wounded hand in his. She immediately opened her hand for him to examine the wound, while her free hand fisted in her sleeve nervously.

"Well, this isn't good. It seems your Zanpakuto is still in the mindset you once were, before you fell into your coma. Probably holding feelings of resentment towards shinigami, or at least the ones that injured you. The hostility should fade soon enough, and your Kyokkou should accept you once more." Aizen told Ichimin gently, as she kept her eyes averted respectfully and nodded. After a moment of silence, he gently took hold of her chin and turned her head up so that her eyes met his.

"It's more polite to meet a friend's eyes when you talk to them, Ichimin." Aizen chided gently, keeping a warm smile on as he watched in quiet satisfaction as she nodded, not trusting herself to speak in anything but a high-pitched squeak. Her eyes, however, showed nervousness that bordered on sheer terror at such an action on his part. She was like Momo, though at the same time she was not. Momo hadn't had the slightest idea of Aizen's true power or capability of cruelty, so she wasn't nervous in the least around him. Ichimin was overly careful about overstepping her boundaries. If he would win Ichimin once more, he would need to change his tactics in such while remembering her false upbringing and her respectful distance from him.

"Yes, Aizen-sama." She finally breathed, though it was shaky at best. Aizen nodded, gesturing towards the door. "Dismissed."

He watched her practically stagger away, pulling out of his touch and taking her warmth with her. Alone now, Aizen sighed a bit and put a hand to cover his eyes. "This may be just a bit more difficult than I had expected. But, I've done it before. This new Ichimin is still lively, still hopeful and still has light in her eyes." He thought on it a moment, before absentmindedly noting that her blood was on his other hand and currently dripping to the floor. It was only a small amount, but the effect of her bright red blood marring the blank white flooring was near staggering.

"She's a vain and self-centered woman, whether she remembers it or not. All Ichimin really wants is attention, and someone to act as her knight in shining armor. Easy enough; if that's all she wants, then I'll give it to her in spades."

Wiping his hand clean with a handkerchief, Aizen then set to begin conferring with Gin as to what movements should be put upon Soul Society in aid of victory. Ichimin wasn't the first thing on his mind, never had been. More a distraction than anything. And things would work themselves out anyway, so why fret over such a trivial matter as to her heart? It would be his soon enough no matter what route he chose.

* * *

Ichimin's hand still stung, though a visit to the medical area had mostly been the cause of that. Nurse dumped peroxide in her hand and then wrapped it up after it was done bubbling. Right now, the woman was wandering the halls of Las Noches aimlessly. She didn't really have any duties of her own, to tell the truth. You'd think that she was just a fourth wheel for Aizen's war machine.

Her shoes silenced on the white floors as she heard someone coming up ahead of her, their reiatsu filled with hostile intent and bearing the warning of impending violence. Ichimin began walking again smoothly, ignoring it as best she could. Whomever it was would most likely ignore her anyway. She continued down the hallway with a more straight step, stiffer and hinting at her own strength as she went about her way. As she caught sight of who was in such a foul mood, Ichimin recognized Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez heading her way with a very hostile look about him. His bright blue eyes immediately snapped to her a moment before straying straight ahead of him again, and Ichimin's stance relaxed because of his apparent inattentiveness to her existence.

"Hey bitch."

Fuck.

Ichimin stopped as Grimmjow did, when they were right beside each other and in the middle of passing one another. She happened to glance over, meeting his gaze. It was intense, striking. And Ichimin noted that he was eying her like a predator about to rip something apart, probably in slow motion. She crossed her arms lazily, leaning against the wall to her right and staring in a rather bored fashion.

"Yeah?" Ichimin queried, her tone becoming just as uncaring as his was. Grimmjow eyed her a moment longer, watching her quietly. She didn't move, only waited for him.

"You ever been a whore?" He asked the most random of questions, and Ichimin scoffed in indignation.

"Of course not; I grew up with morals, for one." She told him tersely, and for a moment, saw him grin.

"Really now? Well, that's damn interesting. You have fun being Aizen's bitch, Ichimin." He kept walking, a knowing smirk on his lips as he waved back over his shoulder a bit. She did spot where the six tattoo for an Espada should be, instead seeing a one and a zero before it. One hundred and six; he was a Privaron. So Jeagerjaquez lost his position as an Espada for some reason, and Jiruga lost an Espada rank to that green-haired woman and took Grimmjow's position as Sexta.

Wait. How did Grimmjow even know her name? She never remembered even talking to Jeagerjaquez, much less telling him her name. She watched him slink off down the hallway, leaving her there horribly confused.

"I'm not Aizen's bitch!" She called to his back, though he gave her no interest after the initial meeting. Or was it their first meeting at all? She didn't know, couldn't tell. Still terribly confused, Ichimin slunk off to her own room and dropped onto her bed, sighing deeply. Something on her bed brushed her hand and Ichimin glanced at it with confusion, lifting her head and sitting up while picking up the object; a lone rose.

"Hm?" She mumbled, picking up the flower with care to avoid the thorns and turning it over in her hand, examining it closely. The ruby color was so intense though, that she gave up in trying to figure out why it was there and only found solace in a bit of bright color within the bland coloring of Las Noches. Roses were signs of love. All she could guess was that someone had an affection towards her, though who could've obtained a rose within Hueco Mundo was a mystery to her.

That was quickly cleared up when she touched the head of the rose and found it to be rock hard. The color seemed to fade from the rose until it was pure, unsettling white, and Ichimin realized with a sinking heart that it was probably some odd flower of Hueco Mundo. All the plants were crystalline here, and this seemed to be one of them as it had no pleasant scent and no more lovely red coloring. But she knew it was most likely a rarity here, in this near-lifeless world, and so set it with care on her vanity, before kicking off her shoes and deciding to take a nap. She didn't have anything to do in Las Noches at that moment, so a nap couldn't hurt her, could it?

Getting under the stiff and cold sheets of her bed, Ichimin thought back to Kyokkou as she laid it against the wall. He wasn't talking to her, and it was unnerving. Though Aizen was probably right. She just needed to give it time.

After all, it was Hueco Mundo. She had all the time in the world.


	5. Sadist Encounter

Life in Las Noches was surprisingly dull for a war machine.

It had been days since she'd awakened, and Kyokkou wouldn't share a word with her. And it was still extremely unnerving. Ichimin was attempting to get him to talk, but after he 'bit' her, she hadn't gotten any reaction from him to...well, anything. And how unnerving it was.

At the moment, Ichimin Kumorigachi was sitting in one of the many rooms of Las Noches, relaxing on a lounge chair and dozing. She had her eyes closed and was very barely aware of her surroundings, which was currently a quiet and empty room bathed in the endless moonlight of Hueco Mundo. Her breathing was slow, gentle, and one arm was hanging limply off of the chair, fingertips brushing the floor. It was near hypothermic.

Footsteps; they were so light, Ichimin didn't recognize them, didn't even acknowledge them. She was on her side, facing away from the door and towards the window, drowsing in the lounge chair. Kyokkou was beside her, leaned against the wall carelessly. Ichimin let her guard down. One, it was too peaceful for anything to happen (or so it would seem). Two, nobody really wanted to fuck with the officers of Aizen's army, namely the turncoat shinigami. You just didn't do that sort of thing. It was like suicide.

Well, suicide for everyone but the person who grabbed Ichimin by the hair and threw her to the floor roughly. She rolled as she hit the floor, back onto her feet only to see Grimmjow glaring down at her.

"Hey bitch, this is my fuckin' seat. Watch where you fucking sleep." He growled at her, and she glared while standing.

"I don't see your name on it." She didn't swear, because of being raised better than that. Grimmjow laughed in a sharp bark, which surprised her as she watched him scoop up Kyokkou and examine the blade.

"Not gonna call me a bastard? I know you want to; it's on 'yer tongue, isn't it?"

It was, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"No. And give that back!" Ichimin was on her feet, marching towards him and making a snatch for her Zanpakuto. She got smacked in the mouth, sent staggering backwards with the sheer amount of reiatsu in the action as he ignored her and kept looking at Kyokkou. Ichimin scoffed, shunpoing behind him and making a grab while trying to jam her finger in his eye to get him distracted. Grimmjow turned halfway and caught her wrist in one hand, kept Kyokkou in the other and hooked his foot behind hers, jerking it out from under her and sending her to the floor with him on top of her. With a flick of his wrist, Kyokkou was unsheathed and her free hand was pinned to the floor with his knee.

"Nice blade, bitch. Shines like hell, don't it?" The Privaron looked at the blade in the low moonlight, seeing it shine as if it were the middle of the day. And to Ichimin's dull horror of what was to come, the bastard was grinning like hell. Like he had an idea of something fun to do. Something that would most certainly be less fun for Ichimin.

"Get off of me." Ichimin ordered, though the look in her eyes she couldn't hide behind false bravado. And she knew he could see it. She was afraid of what he was going to do, the quickening of her pulse and the speeding up of her breathing showing her to be the prey in this situation. And the gleam in the former Sexta's eyes showed her that he was pure predator.

If the psychopathic grin hadn't tipped her off beforehand, anyway.

Seated on her stomach with her arm pinned down by his knee and and the other one held flat on the floor, Grimmjow brandished Kyokkou with a grin and moved the blade to press against her hand, gently.

"What are you doing?" Ichimin still tried to keep the superiority in her voice, and it only seemed to amuse him more. "Nothin'. Just having some fun, eh?" Was her answer, as he adjusted Kyokkou to lay the tip of the blade against her palm. He tapped the bandages and saw her wince.

"Hear 'yer Zanpakuto bit ya. That means your soul's in turmoil, eh?"

The blade dug in, drawing a bit of blood as she growled. "None of your business, Jeagerjaquez. Now let me go, or Aizen-sama'll-" She began, before being cut off with the blade of her own Zanpakuto being impaled through her hand and into the floor. He let go of that hand's wrist and grabbed the side of her head, shoving it down on the floor where her right cheek was pressed against the cold floor and she could only partially see the snarl on his face.

"Don't you fucking threaten me with Aizen. I'll slit your goddamn throat and let you bleed out here, bitch." Grimmjow's voice was a growl deep in his throat, and terribly serious. Ichimin was mentally urging Kyokkou to do something, like bite him or something. And Kyokkou wasn't doing shit. Kyokkou was torn out of her hand, to a muffled mixture of a yelp and a shout, and the bloody blade was now laid against her cheek.

"What do I wanna do? I could cut off your lips..." He trailed off dangerously, running the flat side of the Zanpakuto over her mouth. "Or your nose..." The tip of the blade very gently brushed along her nose, and he could feel her pulse quicken even more under his fingers. It spurred him on even more, as did the fact that blood was smeared across whatever he touched with the sword's blade.

"Or, I could make you a new mouth or two..." The blade traced over the hollows of her cheeks, and he could feel her suck in a great breath in preparation to scream. She only got out a half second of a painfully loud screech, before his hand snapped over her mouth and muffled her shouts.

"Nah ah, don't whine. It's not as good as a scream and frankly, whining just pisses me off." Grimmjow drawled in a terrifyingly relaxed state, holding a sword to her face and attempting to decide on what he should carve out or off. Her rapid breathing against his hand was also urging him on, and after a moment of consideration, Grimmjow flashed a sadistic grin and repositioned the sword over her face.

"Or, I could just do this."

A quick twist of his wrist and the blade obeyed, blood was drawn and half of Las Noches was treated to a blood-curdling scream.


	6. Hell, Inoue, and More Hell

She staggered down the hallway, blood running between her fingers and Kyokkou in her free hand. Quickly and without care did Ichimin sheathe it, feeling the blade warm under her fingers. She ignored it, more preoccupied with having blood spiraling down her arm and dripping from the fingers clamped over her right eye.

_'That bastard!!'_

If he was chasing her or not, Ichimin didn't know. All she knew was that he was far behind her or very close, one or the other. It all depended on how sensitive to light Grimmjow's eyes were.

_'That asshole!!'_

Oh god did it hurt, it hurt more than she ever thought it could. And currently, she was walking (with difficulty) down a hallway alone. She kept walking, though doing it with one eye was hard as hell on the depth perception. Of all the things she expected him to do, it wasn't to cut out her goddamn eye. And of all the things Grimmjow expected to happen in return, it probably wasn't for her to grab Kyokkou's blade and let out a blinding flash, or for Ichimin to jerk upwards and slam her forehead to his in a vicious headbutt that left them both reeling. Her probably more than him, but it still must've hurt at least _some_. She shoved him off and grabbed Kyokkou, running off and leaving him behind with a vicious torrent of swears on his mother, and a volley of crude sexual insults as well. Not that she had any idea about how he was in bed, bt that didn't cease her from calling him everything under the sun as she staggered out.

But there was a problem there. With her upbringing, it shouldn't have been a knee-jerk reaction to swear like a drunken sailor. Sure, she'd gotten just a bit mouthier with being in Seireitei and all, but she usually kept it under tight wraps. But it happened. What was wrong?

"Well, ya look like ya need a bit of help, eh?" A sly voice sounded out behind her, and Ichimin turned to look at Gin Ichimaru leaning lazily against a bleached wall of the white castle they both resided in.

"Understatement of the year, but yeah." She replied somewhat shortly, blood running freely between her fingers and down her forearm, currently staining the white fabric of her sleeve. Gin sauntered forward and showed no qualms in pulling her wrist away from her face to get a glance at the eye, or lack thereof. He let go of her wrist with a low whistle, as if he were appreciating the damage done, and the empty socket staring at him for the moment it took Ichimin to put her hand back over the injury.

"What happened to screw ya up that bad?"

"Jeagerjaquez happened."

"Ah, makes sense. He's a loose-cannon kitten. Been like that ever since that Kurosaki kid kicked 'is ass and Aizen made him a Privaron 'cos of it."

It was a simple answer to a simpler question and an odd statement afterwards, as Ichimin began to notice white spots beginning to show up in her vision. Gin saw her remaining eye roll a bit in its socket, as if she were fighting the urge to black out, and offhandedly licked her blood off his thumb as he thought.

"You want it fixed? I know somebody that can make it like it never happened." Gin told her in a teasing sing-song voice, the childishness of his voice and the smile on his face a bit marred by the fact that he had gotten a bit of her blood on his lip. Ichimin blinked, somewhat insubordinately reaching up and wiping it off with the forefinger of her hand not currently clamped over the gaping and rather serious injury to her head. She didn't know why she did it, as it was more of a bold move with no forethought, but Ichimaru's smile twitched into either a frozen, taken-aback smile or a pleasantly surprised, highly amused smirk. Her lips parted in preparation to tell him that it had been harder to focus on what he was saying and take him seriously with it there.

"Sorry, I-" Ichimin began, before her words choked off with total shock as he deftly caught her wrist with eerily long and wispy, spider-like fingers and pulled her hand to his mouth again. Speech was attempted and failed when he had her forefinger in his mouth, sucking on it gently and watching her face quickly turn a vivid carmine. Ichimin couldn't possibly form words at feeling his tongue on her finger, though she must've looked more idiotic than anything with her lips slightly parted and singular dull green eye wide in surprise. And soon enough he pulled her finger from his mouth with a gentle tug on her hand, leaning down in her face much too closely for comfort.

"Lovely shade of vermilion you're sporting, Ichimin." Gin spoke directly in her ear in a tone only slightly above breathing the words, his cheek brushing hers as he did. And just like that he was moving again, tugging Ichimin after him by the wrist and knowing with satisfaction and a sideways glance that she was still too shocked to speak, and that her heart was racing. He could feel her rapid pulse from under his fingertips, fingers wrapped around her wrist loosely and knew that he should probably take her to the woman he knew could fix that nasty wound of hers, because Ichimin probably couldn't walk on her own at the moment.

Ichimaru was proven correct in another sense as her knees gave out and Ichimin blacked out from the injury. And without missing a beat, Gin pulled her over to him and hoisted her limp form over his shoulder, moving much quicker since he wasn't dragging dead weight. He still had the taste of coppery blood on his tongue, and found it to be quite pleasant a taste, truthfully.

* * *

Next thing Ichimin could remember was opening her eye to look up upon a painfully beautiful woman with her hands crossed over Ichimin, though an odd light orange barrier seemed to be between herself and the unnamed woman. Ichimin opened her mouth to speak, when she noted that there was suddenly vision in her right eye again. The shield faded and the woman stood, as Ichimin sat up and saw Ichimaru leaning against the wall near the door, his arms crossed loosely over his chest and the same smile on his face as he always wore. Ichimin returned to looking at the woman with a curious expression.

"Who're you?" Was the first thing Ichimin managed to say, and the other woman smiled softly. It was kind in a motherly sort of way, but it was also quite sad.

"Inoue Orihime. It's good to see you're awake so quickly, Kumorigachi-san." Her voice was as soft as her smile, as Ichimin made to stand and noticed that her hand was healed as well. There was still blood sticking to her face, giving her a grotesque look that Ichimin had no real idea of at the moment. There was just something so sad about this Inoue that fostered a feeling in Ichimin's chest that hearkened to terrible pain, pain that Ichimin couldn't remember ever being there. Something about her just made Ichimin's heart...well, just made her hurt.

"Kumorigachi-san is too formal. Call me Ichimin, for my sake." Her voice came out broken, hopeless, and it just _scared_her. What Ichimin didn't see was how Ichimaru's smile twitched noticeably, recognizing a tone that a woman had used after her kidnapping to Las Noches to satisfy the whims of a man who would be God. Orihime Inoue blinked, looking a bit surprised with the informality that Ichimin requested, or the light in her eyes dimming noticeably at the words.

"Alright, Ichimin." Orihime spoke, as Ichimin remained with a very heavy heart for some reason she couldn't identify. She looked Orihime over, noting that her eyes and voice held an identical heaviness as her own. She looked to be around her late twenties or early thirties, a very beautiful woman with full lips, clear gray eyes and very, very long light orangish hair that brushed her thighs. She looked as if she were so very worn, like she had once held a certain liveliness but had lost it. Orihime held a hand out to Ichimin and the ex shinigami accepted it, being helped up to her feet. Ichimin touched her right eye, or the area around it at least, looking to Orihime again.

"What was that?" Ichimin queried, and Orihime smiled very gently still. "It's my power, the reason-"

"The reason she's 'ere in the first place." Gin cut in, snapping both women's attention to his figure in the corner. Orihime looked suitably unhappy with him being there, and Gin noted that Ichimin looked at him with eyes holding the exact same broken look he'd seen before. She was probably reminded of being in highly unhappy captivity herself by Inoue, without actually remembering the events themselves. Time to move on out.

"It's nothing. You should go; Cifer-san is coming soon with dinner." Orihime mumbled, patting Ichimin on the shoulder a bit and then heading off to her couch to sit down, and stare at her lap. Gin was already at Ichimin's left, taking her wrist and moving to pull her towards the door. However, as soon as he touched her, Ichimin jerked away from his touch violently, looking like a cornered animal more than a woman. He flinched, and Ichimin blinked before bowing her head.

"I...I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry." She spoke quietly, before feeling a hand on her head and looking up.

"S'no problem. C'mon, we don't wanna get in Ulquiorra-chan's way when he shows, do we?" Gin queried, as Ichimin noted that Ulquiorra himself was standing in the doorway looking quite displeased with the nickname. Gin blinked, glancing over at Ulquiorra as if he hadn't known that he was there in the first place, before smiling brightly and waving.

"Hey there, Ulquiorra! Din' know ya were gonna be here so soon, yeah?"

"I am directly on time, Ichimaru-san."

"Hey, that's real nice. Anyway, we gotta be goin'! Bye-bye miss Inoue, be seein' ya later on, prolly. Lessgo, Ichimin." Gin already had an arm around Ichimin's waist and was dragging her off, past Ulquiorra. Ichimin glanced back to Orihime to see the woman waving a bit to her, still smiling and still looking crestfallen in a way. And then the door slammed in her face, leaving her staring at a blank white wall. She looked back ahead of her once again, then up to Ichimaru with a question in her eyes. Gin noted that she looked a bit less depressed when away from Orihime, and continued smiling down on her.

"Well, that was fun, eh? S'pose we should go tell on Grimmy, then."

Ichimin failed to notice his arm still around her waist as she was forced to walk in step with him, a bit difficult considering that he took long strides for some reason or another, and she was used to a slower step. She raised a hand to her cheek and felt the sticky blood still clinging to her skin, and then remembered Gin's earlier actions after she had wiped blood off of his lip. Her train of thought crashed as Gin stopped, offhandedly taking her by the chin and tipping her head up a bit.

"What are you doing?" Ichimin asked him, as he turned her head gently left to right and seemed to be examining it. He shrugged a bit, seeing that she was back to this new self and once again held no trace of the bitter woman of fifty years ago.

"Oh, nothin'. Just looking at something." He told her, noting that her face was heating up again at the simple touch. No harm in a little bit of fun, right? Nah, he could have a bit of fun.

"What?" Ichimin looked up at him with a slight blush and a curious expression, before her back was against the icy white wall, her wrists pinned above her and his imposing figure blotting out anything else in her field of vision. The collision of her back against the wall caused her to let out a small gasp of surprise, and it was a half second later that he was leaning down dangerously close to her face again, smiling devilishly.

"Just noticing how you look better with two eyes." Gin said nonchalantly, his grip on her wrists tight as she tried to tug her hands away from him. She was acting innocent, naive. As if this sort of thing was totally new to her. And it was fun as hell to see, actually. She flattened herself against the wall to try and create room between them, eyes wide in surprise. "What are you doing? Gin, let me go-" Ichimin began to order, before the rest of her sentence ended in a strangled sigh at feeling his lips brush down her throat and to her shoulder, in a way that seemed to imply that he already knew it would get a good reaction out of her.

"Ah ah, remember rank, Ichimin. It goes Aizen, then me, then Tosen, then you. You're a little low on the foodchain to be givin' me orders, dear." Gin mused against the flesh of her shoulder, right over a scar that Shinso had inflicted. Actually, it had happened against a wall, just like this one, in a hallway, just like this one. How ironic, though Gin found it funnier than Ichimin would've, if she could have recalled. Her breathing was ragged and her breath hitched in her throat when he nipped hard exactly where he knew she liked it, and she dug her nails into his hand as hard as she could.

"Why?" Ichimin attempted to get out, as he ran his tongue back along her shoulder and up her throat, all the way to her jawline. From how she was reacting and how different it was than how she acted before Aizen fucked around with her memory, Gin couldn't laughed. Before, she would've been hissing the word from the back of her throat and he might've heard a low growl at his ministrations. Now, she was breathless and acting near virginal. Then again, he should've expected it. In the Aizen version of her past, she was a spoiled noble's kid who admired Aizen enough to follow him blindly to Las Noches as a traitor; she wouldn't have been too experienced in sexual dealings, being raised as a noble and all. So she might as well have been a virgin.

"Why?" He mimicked her question, fluttering kisses along her jaw and up to her ear, while nonchalantly rubbing the thumb of his free hand up and down her neck lazily.

_"Because it's fun, and you seem to like it so much."_He breathed in her ear, running his tongue along the shell of her ear and feeling her shudder at the action. A quick glance proved her to be terribly flushed, breathless and virtually begging him to continue, though she'd probably never actually say it aloud. Her eyes told him though, and the point where she was loving it was the point where he would pull back, letting go of her wrists and beginning to walk off. He turned away, taking a couple steps away from her before glancing back and seeing her staring at him with confusion, her hand fisted over her heart and leaning against the wall for support.

_'Aw, what the hell.'_

Gin moved back towards her, and to Ichimin's unending surprise, flattened her against the wall again in a hard, brutal kiss. Her hands were pinned against the wall again, though loosely and more or less just held where they wouldn't pose a problem. Though at the moment, she was more aware of the suddenness of it having given her no time to deal with closing her mouth completely, and he took total advantage of her slightly parted lips. Though, a bit disappointingly, she didn't offer up a fight for dominance as he had his fun, and it was a bit boring for a few moments. Until she stopped looking so damn alarmed, and closed her eyes, at least. She had her eyes closed, but Gin was still watching her through his slitted eyes. And when he'd decided it was time to quit, he let go of her wrists and pulled back, only to have Ichimin grab his shoulders and pull him in again. The second kiss lasted only a moment before he had her pinned against the wall again and his smile turned sadistic.

"Don't tempt me, dear. You wouldn't survive."

And with that terrifying message, she didn't try it again and he stepped back, returning to his cheerfully smiling self.

"That was fun; gotta do it again sometime, Ichimin. Ciao!"

All Ichimin could track was him turning around and then him being gone, leaving her alone, slightly scared, and terribly hungering for more of his touch. Her hand went over her racing heart again, and something else familiar struck her. Terrible anger at him for something or other, and a feeling of deja vu there against the wall. It was gone as fast as it came, and Ichimin took a moment to catch her breath and regain her composure. Completely thrown off by the encounter, all Ichimin did was wandering aimlessly, eventually coming to the room in which Grimmjow had carved her eye out. He was still there, lingering against the wall and instantly snapping over to her as she walked in.

"The fuck you doing back here, bitch?" The Privaron growled dangerously, only to see her look at him with an odd, blank stare and both eyes again. Probably Inoue, since the woman could restore anything.

"I...don't know. Just...confused." Ichimin mumbled a bit, and Grimmjow noticed that her cheeks were flushed and her hair was kind of messed up, as were her clothes. She moved back to the seat she'd been napping in much earlier, dropping back onto it without much care for if he would attack her or not. He didn't, was just really fucking confused as to why she'd even come back after earlier.

"Why're you still here? It's been a long time." Ichimin queried aloud, and heard a scoff in return.

"Waiting for Aizen to send one of his cronies to kill me."

Ichimin lifted her head up, looking confused.

"Why would he do that?" She queried, and heard him growl at her stupidity.

"I carved your goddamn eye out; probably an offense he'd execute someone over, you dumb bitch." Grimmjow spat, looking at her closer. "You hit your fucking head on something lately?"

He was slightly surprised to see her just drop back down on the chair, sighing aloud and sighing heavily.

"Nah, but it sure feels like it. I'm not going to tattle on you, because I don't really feel like it anymore. But you do it again and I'll...ugh, nevermind." Ichimin gave up at her threat, closing her eyes.

After a moment of silence, she heard him scoff again.

"Fine, don't squeal on me. But don't think that'll give you any leverage over me later, bimbo."

"Deal. I don't like doing that sort of thing anyway."

Things were silent between them for awhile, before Ichimin spoke aloud.

"Just one of those days." She sighed, keeping her eyes closed. After a pregnant silence, she heard Grimmjow speak as well.

"Fuck yeah it is."


	7. Persuasive, Resurface, Sensuality

She stood before the door, heart pounding and a cold pit of terror in her stomach. She wrung her hands in nervousness, not wanting to go any further but knowing she had to. Closing her eyes, Ichimin Kumorigachi thought back to what had sent her to stand in this exact spot before these doors, and sighed.

* * *

"A what?"

Ichimin was in her room, sprawled on her bed, and staring at Ulquiorra as if he were mad. The lachrymose Espada was silent a moment, before repeating himself. "A summons. Aizen-sama wishes to speak with you in private." He told her (yet again). Ichimin stood, already nervously fiddling with her sleeves. Did Gin tell him about her losing an eye? It really wasn't any sort of big deal; it was fixed, and Ichimin didn't blame Grimmjow like she wanted to, and knew she should. Just didn't really feel like it, which was really, really odd. She lifted her eyes then, and noticed that Ulquiorra was staring quite blankly at her, and she hurried past him because he was getting kind of creepy with his thousand-yard stare of the damned.

* * *

And now she was here, reaching forward and laying her hands on the doors. If Aizen were expecting her, she probably wouldn't have to knock. Pushing, the doors opened and Ichimin stepped inside, to gape at the room as the doors shut a little too quickly for comfort behind her.

A gorgeously decorated table was in the center of the room, and the very first thing Ichimin stared at was a bouquet of vivid red roses on the center of the table. The color was so intense that it clashed against the white room as a sign of their life, that there was an outside world with sunlight and birds and grass and life.

"Hello, Ichimin. I'm glad you could make it." Aizen's voice attracted Ichimin's attention back to him, in the center of the room. It was a silly thing to say, really; everyone in Las Noches was slave to Aizen, and at his beck and call. Of course she could make it. She could always make it, just like everyone else. Ichimin bowed her head respectfully, as she knew she should.

"I'm sorry for being so late, Aizen-sama. I was a bit...well, nervous." She admitted, hearing him chuckle in response.

"You aren't late, Ichimin. Though nervousness is a bit extraneous; we're good friends, aren't we?"

Ichimin was silent, still too nervous to do much, and definitely not to meet his eyes. "Y-yes, Aizen-sama." She mumbled, before hearing him sigh very gently. "It is customary to meet the eyes of one you speak with, is it not?"

Ichimin raised her head, chancing a glance to see if he was displeased and found him smiling amusedly. She began moving to the table as he waved her over to a seat. She sat down and poured them both tea, nearly instinctually. Her hands were shaking, very slightly.

"Of course, Aizen-sama. It's just...forgive me for saying, but now you're a bit less...approachable." She murmured under her breath, holding out his glass of tea for him. It was more than a bit unnerving to be sitting right across from Aizen, the Lord of Las Noches himself. And despite not wanting to, she could see past the warm smile and through to his eyes, devoid of any sort of warmth. He chuckled a bit, hands still over hers and if anything, closing in a bit tighter on them. "I understand completely, Ichimin." He told her, and she lowered her eyes again with a bit of a vapid smile on her lips. The cup was pulled from her hands and set aside, and before Ichimin could track what was happening, he had her chin tipped up gently and their faces were separated by mere inches. And Aizen continued to smile, though the nature of it and the look in his eyes showed more intent than false warmth.

"Ichimin, didn't I tell you to meet my eyes when we speak?" He asked her in a soft, yet still commanding voice. The table was thin enough for him to hold her there easily, and watch as Ichimin blushed so brightly that it would be incredibly difficult not to notice it. She attempted to speak, but no sound came forth as he waited quite patiently, one of her hands still held in his. With Gin she had been uncomfortable; he had basically molested her, though she couldn't say that the stimuli wasn't pleasant. But with Aizen, it was as if her heart hearkened for him, and his touch felt absolutely electric. It was entirely odd, completely off-the-wall. She hadn't felt anything more than close friendship back in her days conspiring in Seireitei. But now that she thought about it, maybe this incredibly nervous feeling was some sort of...she could only relate it to affection that she wasn't consciously aware of.

She was brought back to her senses by feeling his thumb brush over her cheek, and hearing him speak again.

"Not going to give me an answer?" Aizen queried lightly, before moving her forward gently, even closer. His lips brushed against hers as he spoke, quietly.

_"How rude."_

Leaning back enough to see her expression, he knew that she must be connecting with feelings of wanting him from the time before he remade her completely, and must have been stunned by them. It was very amusing to see her suddenly be hit by lust she didn't know she had, at the touch of a man she considered far above her in rank and class. Ichimin was finally beginning to speak, and Aizen noted that her breath was gently shuddering as she inhaled and exhaled.

"F...Forgive me, A-Aizen...sama..." It came out in a whisper, and Aizen felt her lean forward to close the distance between them again. At that moment, Ichimin saw him lean backwards to his own seat, letting go of her hand and acting like it had never happened. But as he pulled his other hand away from her face, Aizen trailed his fingers along her jawline and down her throat in feather touches, teasing her a bit for good measure as he returned to acting like it never happened and taking a sip of his tea, offhandedly glancing to the door. Ichimin was left damn near shaking in her seat, a brilliant shade of crimson painting her cheeks. Aizen watched her out of the corner of his eye, saw her pick up her glass of tea with slightly shaking hands and take a small sip.

"Very good tea blend. Very flavorful." He commented, and Ichimin just nodded. "Y...yes, A-Aizen-sama." She managed to sputter out, as he gave her a firm look that read, 'What did I just talk to you about answering me?'. He seemed contented with that answer, and silence reigned for a moment before Ichimin gathered the courage to ask a question of him.

"I-If it's not too much trouble, Aizen-sama...what did you call me here for?" She asked somewhat meekly, and saw him smile slyly behind his glass of tea.

"I merely wanted to ask you if you were doing well in Las Noches. If you were uncomfortable, needed anything, were given trouble by one of the Arrancar..."

She noticeably flinched at that last option, before very hesitantly shaking her head. "I'm doing very well here, nothing I need. Don't worry about me, Aizen-sama." The man who would be God noticed with a slight smirk that she had dodged the question entirely, just to avoid lying to him. Her tea and his were finished with very miniscule small talk, as Ichimin very slowly calmed herself down again. Aizen dismissed her, and stood by the table as she stood as well.

"Thank you, Aizen-sama." Her voice betrayed her disappointment with the very small amount of contact that had left her unsatisfied, teasing in the way that Ichimin couldn't tell if he was just playing with her or not. Aizen gave her a slight nod and she turned away, heading towards the door. In truth, she _was_ disappointed. The actions had left her completely defenseless, yes, but the odd, alien reaction to his attentions was something she didn't dislike. Just confused her, wasn't unpleasant in the least.

As she reached for the door, a hand caught the wrist that wasn't reaching for the door and Ichimin found Aizen to be holding her wrist. Ichimin's breath caught in her throat as she was tugged back and pulled against him near fully, an arm around her waist and his hand on her hip held her to him without chance of escape. He still had her hand caught as well, though it was limp in his grip as shock flooded her face again. His face was leaning into hers again, very little distance between them.

"What's the matter, Ichimin? You seem a bit...disappointed." His breath was hot on her face as he spoke, and a sinful smile was on his lips. Ichimin let out the breath she had been holding, as it brushed along his face.

"N...No, not at a...all..." She murmured, very softly, while her hand happened to close very gently around his. He raised it, laying her palm on his cheek and watched her closely. Ichimin very gently brushed her fingers along his skin, tracing the contours of his face with something Aizen recognized (and highly enjoyed) as reverence, near godlike awe. Then again, to her, he was like a god in human flesh.

"Are you sure?" Aizen asked her, leaning in even more and pressing her against him completely. After a moment, her fingertips ghosted over his lips and trailed along his jawline. She seemed conflicted, confused. And her eyes were hazed over in lust, while the combined heat between their bodies pressed together wasn't helping her keep control of herself. He waited, and whenever she wanted to lean forward in an attempt to kiss, he would lean back only enough for her to never gain the contact but keep a teasing distance between them.

"I...I want..." Ichimin mumbled without really comprehending what she was saying, as he gently tipped her chin up to just nearly close the distance between them and watched her with either a seductive smile or a very slight smirk.

"What do you want?" Aizen asked her quite simply, and Ichimin murmured out an answer. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What is it that you want of me, Ichimin?" He repeated his question, and she finally breathed out an answer against his lips that he could hear.

"You."

And with that he closed the very small distance between them in a kiss, feeling her hand flatten on his chest, over his heart. Her mind swam, incapable of focusing on anything other than him, how warm he was, the feeling as she moved her free hand to run through his hair, and what it felt like when he ran his tongue along her bottom lip and she parted them. He was very dominant in her mouth, or maybe it was just because she was incapable of doing anything at all, really. And he tasted sweet, like the tea they had both been drinking not five minutes ago.

It was absolutely wonderful to see how much a success his plan had been to make Ichimin more content with her life here, with having any sort of attention from him at all. Aizen was more than certain that she would've been extremely content with helping warm his bed at that moment, as the real memories hidden away only rose the love she held, and not the bitterness. This was only compounded when Ichimin raised a leg and set it around his waist, pulling him even closer against her. He tugged her hair as he ran his hand through it, and instinctually she tipped her head back a bit and gave him a better angle. Gently he broke the kiss, seeing her eyes hazed over in desire with satisfaction.

"Who do you serve?" Aizen asked her in a satisfied, knowing tone as he trailed a hand from her hair and against her neck, gently.

"You." Ichimin mumbled, keeping a good hold on him.

"Who do you worship?" He murmured against her skin, brushing his lips down her throat to feel her shudder.

"You." She replied in a near groan, closing her eyes.

"Who is your God?" She felt him tug down the zipper of the front of her shirt, very slowly and brushing his fingers along her newly-exposed skin as he did, stopping just above leaving her topless.

"You." Ichimin sighed, backstepping as he pressed her against the nearest wall and very suddenly and simultaneously gave her a hard nip on her exposed shoulder and gave what felt like a hard thrust against her, getting a pleasant gasp in return and her nails digging in tightly into the material of his white coat and his back. She arched her back as much as she could against the wall, her neck craning back and giving him more access.

"And tell me Ichimin, proclaim who you desire."

She didn't speak for a moment, and he gave her a hard grind in punishment for not responding quick enough. He ran his tongue up her neck as she gave a loud moan because of it, deciding that now was a good time to answer.

"You, Sosuke!" Ichimin had no idea why she had randomly called him by his given name, when they weren't as close of friends as he and Gin were, and this was the first time he had ever done something like this. He didn't seem to care about it at all, and in fact, it seemed to be exactly what he had been looking for.

"Do you want me?" He already knew the answer, but no harm in some teasing as she gave a slow nod and murmured out something like a 'yes'. Aizen smirked just a bit, pulling Ichimin up into his arms. After going this far, it would be just cruel to leave a woman without satisfaction. And she was so eager, too. Sure, all she had towards him at the moment was lust, but since this little encounter, he predicted that all her old positive feelings would return as well, and he would have the old Ichimin's affection with none of the disadvantages of her being so difficult to control. He leaned down to speak against her cheek, slyly.

"Well, I suppose I could make the time. If you insist so very much, of course." Aizen murmured against her skin, and in a few shunpo, was at the bedroom door. Opening it, Aizen disappeared inside and shut the door, Ichimin in tow.

* * *

"Holy shit, you see those tits?"

"Yeah, pretty fuckin' nice."

Nnoitra Jiruga and Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez were kneeling on a bed in somebody's room, staring through two holes in the wall (Zanpakuto shaped, oddly enough) at the scene happening in Aizen's bedroom. The only problem with watching pretty damn nice real-life porn was that he didn't have anything to fuck.

A glance was paid over to a distracted Grimmjow. And with a sadistic grin, Jiruga pinned the Privaron down on the bed and began jerking at the former Sexta's hakama, to the other's loud swearing, and violent fighting.

"Get the hell off of me, you sick fuck!!"

"Shaddap bitch, we're gonna do it my fucking way!!"

Grimmjow fought, kicked, bit, punched, and Nnoitra did the exact same thing. They rolled off the bed and onto the floor, Nnoitra set on rape and Grimmjow set on not being raped, and goring out Jiruga's other eye in the process.

"I'll fucking murder you in your sleep!"

"Stop fucking squirming, you little bitch!"

They fought hard, and relatively loudly, Nnoitra almost having his goal-

"Well, ya two look like ya havin' some real fun, eh?"

Both Arrancar looked up to see none other than Gin Ichimaru leaning against the doorway, smiling as sadistic as possible. They both froze for a moment, before Jeagerjaquez took advantage and kicked Jiruga in the face before flipping onto his feet and sonidoing to the door, past Gin and as far away as possible while swearing at the top of his lungs about a psychotic fucking bastard. Gin was staring at Nnoitra as he stood, now giving the same glare at him.

"Di'n know ya were into that."

Nnoitra shrugged, walking quickly past him.

"Any port in a storm." He muttered, already sonidoing after Grimmjow as Gin walked in the room sighing. As the door shut, Gin thought he heard the yowl of a certain former Sexta getting pinned up against a wall and then cut off suddenly, and Ichimaru shrugged it off with a sigh at looking at his bed and hearing what was going on in Aizen's room.

"Jiruga tries to rape Jeagerjaquez in my room, and on my bed, no less. I'll have to get them back for that one. And damn it all, those two're at it again. Loud as hell." He muttered the last part, getting ready for bed.


	8. Momentary Renaissance

The next morning (Hueco Mundo morning, of course) for Ichimin was started off with waking up in Aizen's large bed, splayed across it and tangled up in the black silk sheets. She realized that she was alone, Aizen long gone and with no note or anything. Why should she expect anything more than that? All Ichimin could remember feeling was incredibly powerful lust that she didn't know existed, and a slight affection that she had no idea where it came from. But she, for some reason, was still displeased with waking up alone and a little saddened by it.

That was quickly forgotten when she sat up and untangled herself from the sheets, realizing how sore she felt. A quick glancing over of her thighs showed...well, great, bruises. Not to mention more than a bit of humiliation at the memory of being so damn submissive in bed, to the point of practically begging for the sex. And Aizen had been waiting for her to beg him too, burning time with foreplay until she gave him total control. Apparently, Aizen had a domination kink. Unsurprising, since he was the God of everything in Hueco Mundo and all. She sat on the end of the bed, just sitting there a minute before getting up, getting her clothes, getting dressed, finding Kyokkou at the end of the bed, and sneaking out of Aizen's room in time to catch up with a group of Espada heading into the meeting room. An oddly cheerful (or at least, as cheerful as he ever got) Nnoitra Jiruga was hanging in the back, with an oddly spooked-looking Neliel hanging over by a blank Ulquiorra. Ichimin, still feeling quite sore, shrugged it off and kept on with them.

The Espada meeting happened with the Officers in their spots, behind and beside Aizen and the Espada at their table. Nothing of interest was spoken of other than recent small mobilizations of Seireitei's army, but nothing more. Ichimin stole glances at Aizen now and then, and he completely ignored her, as a professional should. Gin was giving her a smile that suggested the consuming of babies as a pass time though, and Tosen was...well, as blank as usual.

The meeting ended and Ichimin also headed for the door with Gin, Tosen, and the Espada, before seeing Neliel still looking off. Ichimin happened to move beside her as she walked, not seeing how Aizen watched her back as she tapped Neliel on the shoulder. The Espada looked over at her questioningly, and Ichimin managed a bit of a smile. Just a bit, but a bit nonetheless.

"Sorry, miss Odschervank, but you look a little...spooked? There anything I should know about and avoid?"

Her eyes looked kind, as kind as she could make them, but the Espada were far more powerful than she was, so Ichimin was more than a little skittish about talking with them if she didn't have to. And Ichimin didn't have any idea if Neliel was like Grimmjow or not, so she was gambling on the Quinta being the kind that didn't want to throttle her.

"Erm..." Neliel trailed off, looking up ahead at somebody and then back. Giving a good hard stare into Ichimin's eyes, as if she were trying to see anything that the woman was hiding, she grabbed Ichimin by the arm and dragged her down the hallway as soon as she could. Ichimin staggered after Neliel, until they arrived at a lounge room bathed in moonlight. Neliel let go of Ichimin and the released woman staggered off to a chair and sat down as the Espada hung around the area by the door. Ichimin looked up questioningly and Neliel stared off in some other direction.

"Well...I guess it can't hurt to tell you. I'll tell Pesche and Dondochakka later on, anyway, so..." Neliel trailed off, before glancing back at Ichimin.

"Anyway, yesterday I was walking with Ulquiorra and we sort of heard an odd noise coming from one of the rooms. And when I went over to look, I opened the door and...and there was..." She trailed off, looking a little traumatized. Ichimin remained silent, waiting through the thick silence. Neliel looked back, finishing off her sentence.

"Well, I opened the door and saw Nnoitra on Grimmjow. And Grimmjow was yowling like a damn cat, real loud, and...well, you get the picture."

Neliel could've laughed at the horror-stricken look on Ichimin's face. She smirked instead, waving her hand in a dismissive nature.

"Don't worry about it, and for god's sake don't mention it to Grimmjow. He'd be mortified if he found out that somebody saw him bottom for Nnoitra Jiruga."

Ichimin looked back up to Neliel, nodding her head a bit. She then put a hand over her eyes, still staring off at nothing. The mental images of Nnoitra on top of a yowling Grimmjow...and Nnoitra with scratches down his arms and back...the both of them sweating...and nude...

Neliel blinked, walking over to Ichimin and waving her hand in front of her face. Ichimin's face was painted in a deep blush and she had her hand over her eyes now moved to press against her hot right cheek. At Neliel's action she glanced up, snapping out of it with a blank, spooked look. Seeing the Espada smirking a bit, Ichimin laughed shallowly.

"It's quite a mental image, huh?" Neliel queried, and Ichimin nodded her head.

"Well...you know, imagining the two of them like..._that_...it's not a bad image." Ichimin murmured, and Neliel laughed and dropped down onto the chair beside Ichimin.

"If you're into that, then it wasn't a bad picture at all. It's not like they're unattractive or anything." The Espada spoke, before getting a glance from Ichimin. The Quinta blinked, losing her smile and taking on a curious, introspective look.

"Well, Grimmjow's a wild one, but he's usually got whatever woman he wants because...well, it's Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez. But ever since he became a Privaron, he's been taking whatever he wants without giving a damn, actually. He's really bitter over it. Nnoitra's a creepy asshole, but I'm sure some women would die just to spend a night in his bed. Whoever they are."

Ichimin blinked, the blush fading from her face. "Why did Grimmjow lose his position?" She queried, leaning her chin on her fist. Neliel seemed to get an almost depressed look on her face before it passed, and she began talking.

"He lost a fight with Ichigo Kurosaki and was very, very nearly killed. He survived, as you can see, but Aizen took away his position as Sexta and made him a Privaron. Nnoitra lost his fight as well, and he was demoted to Sexta." Neliel muttered, standing again. She smiled to Ichimin at the door, a bit kindly.

"Hey, thanks, by the way. Good to talk to somebody that isn't set on killing me, and even better when it's one of Aizen's advisors who isn't being creepy or preaching justice."

Ichimin nodded, waving as Neliel left to do...Espada things, Ichimin could only guess. She herself rolled over onto her side, to face the wall. A couple minutes later, the door opened again and Ichimin didn't bother rolling back over.

"Oh, miss Odschervank. Did you forget something?" She asked the other woman, getting a chuckle in return. A dangerous chuckle with a sinister tone to it. Ichimin's eyes widened, but she didn't roll over and only acted like she didn't recognize who was behind her. Her heart was racing, but she tried to keep calm.

"No?" Ichimin raised her head gently, not looking at who was at her back. Shrugging gently, she laid back down.

"Well, alright then." She muttered, settling down again. "Whatever you want."

Her eyes closed, though she really, really didn't want to. And as soon as they did, another weight was on the lounge chair with her and her hands were held tightly over her head, and she was pinned beneath the weight of one very pissed looking Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez. One arm jerked free, and she grabbed for Kyokkou. It was pulled out of her hand and tossed across the room before her hand was caught again and pinned up over her head again, as he glared in her face while straddling her waist.

"So, you think you can talk about me behind my fucking back? Gossip with that Neliel whore? Think again, bitch." Grimmjow looked so damn pissed at her, and he was snarling like he was going to rip her throat out right then and there. Ichimin attempted to look just as vicious, though the effect wasn't quite as powerful as it was with Grimmjow.

"Get the fuck off me, Jeagerjaquez. Gin's got cameras in every room; he can see this and Aizen'll have your head on a...silver...platter..." She trailed off, seeing something laying on the ground near the door. Part of a camera, broken and useless. He dug his nails into her wrists, as hard as he could, and Ichimin winced as red beads of blood ran down her arms and stained her uniform again.

"Not anymore. Just you and me, Kumorigachi. And this time, no fucking magic trick is going to get you out of this. You got that?" He switched both her wrists into one hand, the other grabbing her by the hair and jerking hard to make her look at him again.

"I said: Do you fucking got that?" He growled it in her face, and she nodded very slightly. She dug her own nails into his hand as hard as she could, but couldn't break the skin because of his hierro. That stunt caused him to grab her by the bottom jaw, jerking her face up to be incredibly close to his while his nails dug into her skin.

"The fuck you think you're doing? You're helpless, you little shit. I could do anything I wanted to with you, and nobody would help you. And believe me, I'm going to."

Tears were welling up in Ichimin's eyes, but she forced them back as to not give the bastard satisfaction. "What the fuck do you have against me, Jeagerjaquez? I don't remember fucking you over at any point in time, so what the fuck do you have against me??" She repeated herself without realizing it, only gritted her teeth and gave him the worst glare she could muster. His nails dug in deeper and he growled in her face, looking even angrier than before.

"Because I don't fucking like you. I fucking hate you. Some snotty bitch that waltzes into Las Noches on Aizen's fucking arm, buzzing around this place like she has any fucking idea what's going on in the war, pretending she's doing something fucking useful around here and helping with the fucking war, when all she's doing is fucking Aizen and Ichimaru like a street whore. I. Fucking. Hate. You."

Every word that he spoke in a low, deadly growl in her face was spoken with complete conviction, and the utmost hatred. And with every word, Grimmjow dug his nails in even deeper, until he drew blood. Ichimin gritted her teeth, feeling hatred well up in her own heart, acidic words on the back of her tongue just begging to be thrown in his face. He leaned forward, speaking right in her ear in a chilling growl.

"This is gonna be the worst fucking day of your life."

It was like a switch had been thrown.

With those words, something flashed back to Ichimin, something she couldn't remember happening but instinctually knew was some sort of flashback of a group of senses that she couldn't quite recall, that came jumbled all together and hit at the same time. Her back against a wall. The smell of a musty, dirty room. The feeling of air against her bare legs, only stopping at her covered thighs. The ache in her feet from heels. A taste in her mouth that was absolutely disgusting, but incredibly familiar. Waxy lipstick on her tongue. The heavy feeling of makeup on her face. The smell of clean cologne, tinged with a more masculine scent. Long, spidery and cold fingers tracing her collarbone. Breath against her face that smelled of rain and candy. And the sight of a sinister smile, pale hair and a shinigami shihakusho.

Grimmjow was still leaned down over her, flicking his tongue out to catch a droplet of blood rolling down her cheek like a tear, down her neck and towards the area between her breasts. When he moved, he had to lean forward and lessen the pressure holding her legs down. And as soon as his tongue traced the path from her chest up her neck and to her cheek, he caught sight of her eyes and saw that they were cold, completely lost of all innocence and fear. Her legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him down, giving a hard grind while she ran her own tongue up along his neck and over the mask fragment on the right side of his jaw, hearing him growl slightly in response. She spoke in his ear, in a cold, emotionless whisper in a tone as dead as Ulquiorra's.

_"I doubt it."_

Ichimin slammed her forehead into his, fisting her captured hands and slamming them into his throat as he leaned back. His grip loosened, she she shoved him off and shunpoed over to Kyokkou, grabbing the humming blade and heading through the door with an icy cold look on her face and without so much as a glance back to the stunned Grimmjow. She was moving on a feeling deep in her chest, something familiar, something completely hopeless, angry, despairing, callous. Something ruthless. Something that had been there for the longest time, something that hearkened back to days she couldn't recall, and something that propelled her on. Blood rolled down her cheeks from the nail marks, and she licked the blood away where she could.

Ichimin couldn't remember what these senses meant, but the pure feeling that they brought back made her so angry, so unafraid, and so damn ready to kill. She marched to her room without so much as a glance to anyone that passed, right up to her door. Gin was leaning next to it, now looking at her curiously as she bled freely. Ichimin reached for her door, before feeling him take hold of her wrist.

"Ah, ya seem to have gotten in a scrap. Anythin' I could-"

As his hand closed around her wrist, the feeling of long, cold, spidery fingers on her flesh caused her to jerk away suddenly, and give Ichimaru a cold, flat look.

"Don't touch me, Ichimaru." Ichimin spoke in a dull, dead tone as she opened her door and walked in, shutting and locking it. Kyokkou was still humming against her hip, hearing his voice saying her name in her mind. She didn't answer, laying the Zanpakuto against the wall by her bed and laying down on it. The anger and sadness and hopelessness was fading quickly, leaving a hollow feeling in her chest as it did. She didn't remember anything, but with what was left of that feeling, she thought of Aizen and for an instant, felt complete, total love and adoration towards him, at the same time as hatred and disgust.

Ichimin felt the feeling fade completely and leave her with naivety and weakness as she closed her eyes, and fell asleep soon after.


	9. Taste a God

"Nobody is more dangerous than he who imagines himself pure in heart; for his purity, by definition, is unassailable."

* * *

There was the oddest noise repeating again and again in the large open hall of Las Noches; not that just one noise should be noticeable repeating when the shuffling of many people was evident, but it still was. It was a clickity-clacking noise, a steel guard hitting the edge of the sheathe again and again, a nervous sort of tic. The hall had quieted now, as some began to notice the noise and become annoyed by it. Mainly two or so white-clothed soldiers that happened to be standing right next to the one causing the noise without noticing it. A slitted eye rolled over to the smaller woman, narrowing with the constant, maddening clacking noise. A pair of bright blue eyes, narrowed, did the exact same.

"Hey bitch, knock that shit off." The blue-eyed Privaron growled, getting a finger from the woman and only momentary peace from the noise. The other man's hand happened to smack her in the back of the head, getting her to finally stop. "Yeah, quit it before I rip your goddamn fingers out of socket to make you quit." The incredibly tall Espada snarled, finally getting a glare, a huff, and peace and quiet from one Ichimin Kumorigachi now tapping her foot nervously (and quietly). She crossed her arms over her chest, glancing around at the other hundred or so Arrancar waiting for their orders. They were all waiting for one man to tell them to go; three men, if it were described aptly. Ichimin wasn't quite advisor material, apparently. She was bitter over it, too.

"Arrancar." A regal voice boomed, and all heads turned up to look upon Sosuke Aizen himself, tailed by Tosen and Ichimaru. Aizen was smiling pleasantly, though everyone else in the room knew very well that it was absolutely fake. And not because it was transparent, either; because it made Aizen look benevolent. Gin was smiling devilishly, as he always was; the man had no other expressions, some would say. Some. Tosen was blank, expressionless. He wasn't one to actively show emotions to those who didn't anger him, and none in this room could recall seeing him smile. He was Ichimaru's antithesis; two sides of a coin that Aizen had no qualms in randomly flipping for his own amusement.

And Ichimin? She was the mistress. She had her own role in Hueco Mundo, as the one that kept Aizen a little less cruel than normal, a little more humane, though it wasn't very much at all and never lasted. Ichimin didn't share a room with him, of course not; all the Arrancar would have no problem in taking her hostage, and Aizen would have no qualms in letting them kill her if worse came to worse. It was a secret, though Ichimin had no idea that it was actually not a secret at all, and that the Arrancar just _didn't care. _She was a big joke, in reality, to all of Las Noches. That dumb shinigami bitch that had no idea what the fuck sort of shit she was in. Then again, telling her the truth would be followed by horrific torture and agonizing death (as decreed by a smiling Ichimaru, acting as mouthpiece to Aizen), so nobody really gave a damn. Nobody gave a damn about her anyway, because she wasn't their problem. In any case, she had her own job as Aizen's willing sex slave, deeply attracted to the man. The object of her affections found it highly amusing. The Arrancar didn't give a damn, as long as it kept Aizen in a relatively good mood.

"This squadron is making a surprise attack on the Seireitei, to undermine their efforts and keep them low. Kill whomever you wish. You have free rein while there. Go." Aizen waved them all away, towards the large doors. They sonidoed there (Ichimin shunpoed, being sent as the shinigami representative of Aizen and to conduct the troops that hated her), the soldiers pooling out onto the bone white sands and spreading out to open their own Gargantua to a specific place within Soul Society's outskirts; the Rukongai. Seventy-Eighth district, to be precise. Ichimin hung with Ulquiorra and headed into his Gargantua with him, having to cling onto the thin man to keep from spinning off into nothingness while heading through the gaping maws breaking through the thin, painfully dry air of a Hueco Mundo night. She sort of trusted Ulquiorra, him being near totally asexual in nature and not minding as she (his superior, if only in title) wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tightly with her chin on his shoulder, pressing her chest against his back. Grimmjow would've probably killed her if she touched him, Nnoitra probably would've either molested or raped her, and Ichimin didn't know any of the other Arrancar within sight at the moment.

It was in a quick moment, a flash of icy cold darkness that Ulquiorra didn't even flinch at experiencing, and then they were walking out again, as Ichimin released Ulquiorra. And she realized something as the breeze kissed her skin, a warm and fragrant breeze tinged with the scent of flowers.

There was sunlight.

The sunlight warmed her skin and felt so alien as to be near unpleasant, and Ichimin blinked away the spots in her vision as she glanced up at the sun. She quickly glanced away, as the sun's brightness left spots in her vision. The Arrancar's reiatsus surrounded her as Ichimin stared in awe at all of the...well, all the _colors_. She'd mainly forgotten what color looked like. Vivid, non-hair colors, anyway. Grass was painfully bright to her, as were the cherry blossoms blooming in clouds of pink. She was so used to bland white that all the color caught her attention, drawing it away from her mission for a split second. And it only took that split second for reiatsus to explode, for Kido blasts to rip through the sea of Arrancar. She whirled around to see the hollows scatter with roars and cries, a cacophony of noise as they shouted their battle cries and the metallic shrieks as they all drew their Zanpakuto near simultaneously and charged. Ichimin turned, to see the enemy firing upon them as Kido blasted near deafeningly in her ear, as she flinched and her hair blew with the force of the blast.

Her eyes happened to lay first upon a shinigami wearing a billowing Captain's coat, one that was almost directly across from her where they stood in midair. Long-ish blong hair, with one bang crossing over one eye in an odd fashion. He ordered his troops forward with a shout, as they clashed with the Arrancar bloodily, before holding his hand out towards her and shouting the name of a Kido. Shakkaho, Ichimin guessed. She didn't really remember names of Kido and Hado too well, though it would do her well to recall some of them, even if she hated using them. The Kido exploded beside her and Ichimin shunpoed forward, Kyokkou in her palm and drawn.

"Shine, Kyokkou!"

The Guan Dao-esque blade of Kyokkou extended dutifully in her hand as a shinigami attacked, recognizing her as not a hollow, but a shinigami. She swung, feeling the blade cleave flesh, before shunpoing off and locking blades with another shinigami. This went on and on, until Ichimin worked herself into a mindless frenzy, all that mattered was drawing vibrant, hot blood. Her mind stopped processing real thoughts, only amounting to her recognition of sensations. Blood in her mouth. Sweat on her skin. Her lungs burning as she shouted, cried, screamed. And dear lord, how her arms ached from keeping the momentum of Kyokkou going so that her blows remained mortal ones, and how her legs ached from all the shunpoing she was doing. Something was tearing at her mind, screaming something that only came in brief flashes of sensation. Explosions, horrible tropic heat, the taste of ash and...blood. Stabbing pain flashed through her side, the one with a huge scar across it.

Something occured to her at that moment. Something that made Ichimin freeze.

_'How did I get that scar??'_

She couldn't recall. It was completely, totally blank. Her mind was suggesting that she was clawed by a hollow, but she knew that wasn't it. The explosion rang in her ears again, as she swung and saw another man fall at her blade, dead. Screams called through her mind, as she swung and caught a woman through the neck while continuing to keep momentum, twisting, turning, a chaotic ballerina in the Danse Macabre. It wasn't just sweat on her skin, it was so much blood. Her white uniform was a canvas painted in differing shades of the same horrible red showing her a killer, as much a monster as the white-garbed hollows killing right beside her. She was hearing a woman's screaming, constant and ear-piercing. And maddening. Ichimin wanted it to stop, because it was driving her insane. Only when she felt a blast of reiatsu and turned to raise Kyokkou's blade, turned and faced a shinigami behind her. Their blade locked with hers, and she was staring right into the eyes of a very, insanely familiar woman. And only when she had to whisper the name did Ichimin realize that she had been the woman screaming the entire time.

"Matsumoto?"

Ichimin was shocked to find her voice so small, so quiet, so very _afraid_. The other woman was shocked, staring straight through her. Haineko was locked with Kyokkou, and they stayed very still for only a split moment before both pushed back, and both swung again. From Ichimin it was pure instinct to deflect Matsumoto's anticipated blow; from Matsumoto, it was a jerk reaction.

"Ichimin? You're-"

An explosion of Kido rocked them, and Ichimin felt through the reiatsus left. And she realized, very painfully, that Grimmjow, Nnoitra, and Ulquiorra weren't there. No Espada or Privaron was there; it was only Ichimin and a brigade of Numero. And almost seventy five percent of those Numero were dead. Ichimin realized that she was alone in command here, that they were under her command and hers alone. She sucked in a deep breath, glancing over at Matsumoto to keep track of the other woman, only to see gray ash clouding her vision. Ichimin propelled herself back in time to see the dust solidify into steel and to feel her shoulder ripped open, as well as the ash flaying the skin of her right arm. Clutching the injured limb against her body, Ichimin let out a scream of pain and then another scream, strangled and breathless.

"Retreat!! Gargantua to Hueco Mundo!! Open them, open the fucking Gargantua!!" Ichimin howled at her troops, who immediately set to opening Gargantua. Ice exploded and took out a good portion of those new unopened Gargantua; Hitsugaya was destroying their escape. The Hueco Mundo turncoat looked at her troops with wild eyes; few of them still stood, and more of them fell before her eyes. Ichimin's desperation was culminating with something else, something much more powerful, as all these nostalgic sensations arose and combined. Things she didn't remember arose, senses of times long gone came back in flashes. Ichimin grasped at her head, closing her eyes painfully tight and dimly realized screaming again, babbling out apologies and curses and nonsensical things. She felt a new reiatsu suddenly and opened her eyes slowly, trying to remember and trying to forget all at once.

And right as she opened her eyes, Ichimin did so just in time to see a blade impaled through her chest. The ground under her feet seemed to disappear, dirt in her hair and in her mouth from the dust in the air losing all taste. Ichimin stared down at the blade of the Zanpakuto, following it up to a brunette woman in a Captain's coat staring at her very hard. Her hair was in a loose bun, and Ichimin very vaguely recognized the Zanpakuto as being Tobiume. The pain was disconnected; she didn't even really feel it, staring up at Captain Hinamori dryly as her breathing became wet, blood creeping from her pierced lung and up her throat, to stain the back of her tongue. And Ichimin dimly saw the buildings around her in the Seventy-Eighth Sector of Rukongai, as memories of a girl with a cut throat bleeding out in the gutter, working as a cheap whore in a cheap whorehouse, becoming a bitter shinigami, being kidnapped by a man she thought she loved, all returned.

And Ichimin's mind snapped.

She screamed unintelligibly, Kyokkou dropping to the bloody dirt as Ichimin's blood-soaked hands gripped Tobiume's blade. The Zanpakuto pulled out of her body in a quick jerk, as Ichimin fell forward to her knees and immediately grasped for Kyokkou. A foot kicked it away from her as her fingers closed around it, though Ichimin was too busy falling to the dirt and curling into the fetal position to notice. Her body screamed in agony, her voice was nearly gone from the hoarse screeches she was still letting out, and her mind was near gone from the sudden revelation of her life as fake, along with the traumatic reliving of all the horrible things she'd experienced. Ichimin shivered there, clawing at the dirt and breaking her nails in the process, unable to even notice as the last of her troops fell and she was left alone in enemy territory, crying and sobbing and screeching hysterically, pink froth of blood mixed with hysteria at her lips. And then she went silent, went blank, went catatonic. Murmurs of shinigami didn't even register as Ichimin Kumorigachi broke completely, totally, **_magnificently_**.

_'...Frothing at the fucking mouth...'_

_'...Something wrong with the bitch...'_

_'...Psychiatric evaluation...'_

_'...Interrogation...'_

_**'Execution.'**_

Arms scooped the limp turncoat from the ground with bloodstained Zanpakuto at her throat, hand closing painfully around her arms. Her head hung limply; she gave them no trouble as a mentally broken, drooling vegetable of a woman. She could remember it all, but could process nothing. And beyond feeling her knees drag the dirt, the pain in her arm and her chest, breahting shallowly, Ichimin could taste what Aizen had denied her. She tasted guilt, grief, hate, fear, God.

Ichimin could almost taste Aizen himself.


	10. Never White

The woman watched her be dragged to Fourth Division, nearly recalling fond memories of hearing a shinigami bitching about how much she hated Fourth. How it smelled of antiseptic and death. The female Captain's features were set still, serene, expressionless, though she didn't say she enjoyed watching shinigami buzz around the turncoat to try and save her life. Punctured lung, at the hand of Captain Hinamori, they reported. Horribly destroyed arm and shoulder, by Lieutenant Captain Matsumoto's hand. Retsu Unohana mused about how oddly life plays out as she moved forward, also beginning to work on Ichimin Kumorigachi and trying to ignore the woman's blank, mindless stare at the white ceiling. The reports of a total mental breakdown also reached Captain Unohana, and would be considered later. Right now, Kumorigachi was in the process of dying.

The female Captain cleaned her blade off on a throwaway cloth, ignoring how Kumorigachi's blood stained the fabric. Captain Hinamori was already setting to dealing with the destruction the attack by Aizen had wreaked. Men and women died. Good men and women, good shinigami. Ichimin Kumorigachi was the villainess that had assisted in perpetrating it partially, herself. She had done quite a bit of it in a rampage. It was of no importance. The woman allied herself with Aizen, and as Momo thought of the smiling visage of her long ago beloved superior, no quiver came to Hinamori's hand and her heart remained stony. If Ichimin had allied herself with Aizen, she deserved nothing more than death.

Matsumoto walked alongside Hitsugaya, examining the damages that the attackers caused. She recalled Ichimin's face and dispelled it quickly, remembering that another face had very briefly flashed through her mind again. A grinning fox of a man, one that had picked his side for thrill, probably. One that had abandoned her. One that she hadn't seen in fifty years, and one that Rangiku had been hunting for in every subsequent attack upon them by Aizen's forces. Ichimin was a surprise, and the remembrance of their former friendship stung horribly only for a moment, as if peroxide had been dumped on an old wound that never quite healed. It faded. Matsumoto went on, with the memory of a broken, babbling Ichimin in the dirt.

As the Captain's coat with the kanji for 'Three' emblazoned on the back fluttered, Izuru Kira kept walking along the battlefield and stopped at familiar reiatsus at his back. He turned to face Renji, and to see Ikkaku and Yumichika. They all had seen her, and they all remembered days of yore when a group of shinigami were drinking away their troubles with gusto, one a bipolar drunk jumping between mean as hell and giggling. One they themselves had declared an enemy, and one that they had seen a catatonic, frothing mess. They exchanged glances, before Kira was ushered off by his men to go have a drink. Third Division was mainly fine. The three walked off, spotting Matsumoto and watching as she joined them for a drink, wordlessly.

A scowling Privaron stuck his hands in his pockets, experiencing the magical memory eye dust for himself from Ulquiorra. He had thought it'd take more than just some memories to do something that damaging. She was a tough bitch, but apparently not as tough as he thought she was. And Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez couldn't help but think he should've killed her awhile back, if she was that weak a bitch.

A smiling man leaned against the back wall in the shadows, watching her crumple in a screaming, frothing mess. A bit of it actually struck him; maybe he should've been merciful and just killed her out of compassion. His smile dampened, before returning to its natural, unnatural appearance that made him seem inhuman. Gin Ichimaru's guilt faded. He stopped caring, and instead retreated to comfort that Rangiku was alright, and bathed in the humor of seeing Ichimin Kumorigachi fall so hard.

The Lord of Las Noches leaned his chin on his fist as he watched through Ulquiorra's eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. He found it highly amusing. The slightest notion that he might not have to, that being amused at watching Ichimin plummet from her pedestal somehow made him monstrous was thought of for only a moment, before being brushed away. Things would work out, as they always had. And it wasn't like he was surprised by the events.

Nothing surprised him anymore.

* * *

Seireitei was calm. As calm as it could possibly be.

The door was opened to a quiet (very much so) room, shattering the illusion of such a room being a world of its own to the sole occupant. A single person strode in quietly, shutting the door behind himself and glancing upwards at the only other person in the room, currently sitting up in bed and staring out the window. The sheets were not white; they were a ruddy brown color. She couldn't stand white. Had a near phobia of the color. The entire room had been changed for her to keep her calm, to keep her under control. She wanted no couch in the room, and remained steadfast in not wanting black sheets for her bed. And she wouldn't tell anyone why, though correspondence with Kurosaki had revealed to them why she loathed white so much. Apparently, her entire world had been white for a very long time.

The visitor was silent, as silent as the room had been beforehand. He didn't speak with her, never even bothered with pleasantries. The Captain's coat clashed with the dark, inky color of his hair only interrupted by the noble ornament hanging limply. He was silent, here with a mission, and she was completely compliant.

From the window, the normal people moving around below her garbed in black, she glanced over to him. Dull green eyes, much duller than her visitor remembered, rolled over to appraise him. A smile tugged at her lips, very gently so. Her lips parted to mouth a greeting, the long mane of blondish hair moving with her as she turned her head. Her hand lay limp on the sheets, around thigh level, fingers splayed openly on the dull ruddy sheets. Her movements were slight; sluggish. When she had come back, when she returned and then broke like porcelain, her skin had been a painfully, unhealthy pale. Near liquid paper white. Lack of sunlight, they had surmised. She let them know they were correct in that notion. But what they hadn't gotten the direct answer to was why she was so...why she looked so very _tired,_ no matter what she was doing or how much rest she had had beforehand. That, why she absolutely abhored the color white, and why she wouldn't let anyone touch her. She hated to be touched. Even by Unohana, she would only just barely contain her urge to pull away, jerk away, get away from their hands.

And there was one more question that nobody had to ask, because they could just guess the answer.

Byakuya made his way across the room, dropping something into her lap while careful not to get too close. She was silent in opening the letter, scanning over it, and dropping it, watching the paper float gently downwards to the floor. They very barely let anyone come in anymore, only certain Captains. Why they had picked Byakuya Kuchiki was beyond her, because she found his presence discomforting. She wouldn't tell them why. The only things she had told them were what they had demanded from her, mainly about Aizen's base and his plans. She knew very little, and it frustrated them. They tried interrogation, but her mental condition was so blase that she barely reacted to Soifon's harsh manner of bad cop-worse cop, only going catatonic once again. And after the first time, Unohana had told them that doing it again may facilitate another complete breakdown.

"You understand?" Kuchiki queried with high disinterest. She nodded once, and only once, before her eyes trailed to the window again. How long she had been here, Ichimin Kumorigachi had no real idea. They didn't tell her, and she didn't really care either way. It felt like eternity. And it wasn't near long enough as she would've liked. She told them all that she could, about how Aizen had rigged her betrayal and massacre, how Aizen apparently erased her memories until recently, how he had done it all. They believed her, but they didn't _trust_ her. Ichimin couldn't blame them. She wouldn't have either.

Byakuya gave a stiff nod, before turning on his heel and heading towards the door. When he reached it, he left the room as soon as he could, wanting to be away from her. Ichimin looked far too closely to Hisana in her final days, far too close for comfort. He never appreciated the visits, never liked them. Quick, clean, to the point. He made sure the visits stayed that way, without banter or chatter. Not that banter or actual dialogue could happen in the first place.

As he left, Ichimin's eyes remained upon the people outside, the shinigami walking around and taking care of their day to day lives. She envied them. So long to put herself back together, and she was still a work in progress. Fragile. Useless. Guilty. And plagued by bad memories of a too-short span of time within a vast white castle, a time when she was both immeasurably happy and still a laughable puppet on golden strings.

She thought of him sometimes. Aizen. She remembered happier times, and she regretted so very much. And hated a lot, that too.

Her eyes flickered to the letter on the floor, then back to the window. And she closed her eyes then. What would come, would come. Right now, she just wanted one thing.

Ichimin laid back down, closing the world out and smothering it in ruddy sheets.

She wanted a small part of peace, whether or not it was glass.

* * *

**((Last chapter of Bluebird! I think of it as filler, actually; Faux Smiles was better, in my opinion. But the next part will most definitely be the last, and there's another timeskip so it seems appropriate for a new (and final) installation. And, believe it or not, I have an idea for how it'll all end. Be looking for the Coyote Gospel, coming very, very soon. Thanks again for reading, you guys.))**


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